


The Sound of Music

by inkand_paper (Fabuest)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alcohol, Crack, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 19:57:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabuest/pseuds/inkand_paper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mechs on board the Ark are very much not what Hot Rod expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Music

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Written for [deviantart.com profile] azur3sk1es' birthday. Happy birthday, bro! You're 20 today! This was originally going to be about Sideswipe and Sunstreaker dicking around, and then Hot Rod got added to the equation and somehow it turned into this. [deviantart.com profile] Merkitten will eventually be posting a comic of the last scene because when we were brainstorming last night it seemed like it needed to be drawn.

Hot Rod had gotten to know the Ark pretty well since his arrival on Earth. Not the mechs on board, really – he barely knew any more about them now than he had back on Cybertron, when he'd eagerly read everything in their service records that he could access with his limited clearance. Some of them were nice, some of them were afts, and none of them had ever invited him to join them in... anything, really. They all had leisure time, and they all had friends they spent that time with, and that left Hot Rod alone. He spent his free time walking the halls, mostly, and exploring any rooms left unlocked, so he knew the Ark pretty well.

He was just approaching the store room with a fist sized dent in the door when he heard someone call his name. He turned around, startled, and tried not to look too guilty; he didn't know if he was actually allowed to go into the store rooms, or if he was allowed in this out of the way corridor, or if maybe he was just supposed to stay in his quarters when he was off duty.

The mech who had called him was sauntering down the hallway, grinning, his optics gleaming as brightly as his brilliantly polished red chassis, and Hot Rod took a moment to be appropriately awestruck when he recognised Sideswipe, the most famous Autobot frontliner and arguably the most popular mech on the Ark.

“Hey, Roddi, how's it goin'?”

He had to force his vocaliser online before he could respond. “Uh, s'good. Fine.”

“What'cha doin'?” Sideswipe asked.

“Just, um. Just walking. Around.”

Sideswipe laughed, and Hot Rod looked away, suddenly mortified. Of all the glitched-up things to say!

“Sounds like... fun. Hey, I was gonna ask if you wanted to hang out? A bunch of us are watching a movie in the rec room... unless you're busy?”

“Not busy, I can come,” Hot Rod blurted out.

“Great,” Sideswipe said, chuckling. “Come on, rec room's this way.”

Hot Rod followed him obediently. He didn't bother to point out that he already knew how to get to the rec room.

 

There were several mechs already gathered around the vidscreen: Bluestreak, Praxian frame, best sniper in the Autobot army; Sunstreaker, Sideswipe's twin, formidable frontliner; Jazz, Polyhex frame, Third in Command, Chief of Special Ops, expert saboteur; Hound, a scout model – it was said he could track a Decepticon by their exhaust trail up to a decacycle after they passed through an area; Brawn, minibot class, strong enough to lift entire buildings right off the ground. He tried not to look too awed when he sat next to them all with Sideswipe, but these were members of Optimus Prime's crack team, handpicked for the Ark's crew over a metacycle ago, when the war was still raging across Cybertron, not like the dull stalemate Hot Rod had known all his function.

He didn't have to fight his amazement for long; just kliks after he and Sideswipe arrived, the movie started with a stunning panorama of Earth's scenic landscapes.

“Fraggit, who let Bluestreak choose the movie again?” Brawn griped.

“If you don't like it, you can leave,” Sunstreaker snapped back.

Hot Rod had a moment to wonder what was wrong with what appeared to be a nature documentary before the camera zoomed in on a young human woman who began to sing. Hound and Bluestreak sang along eagerly, and Brawn grumbled but made no move to leave.

Sideswipe nudged Hot Rod to get his attention. “Hope you like musicals,” he whispered before adding his own voice to the growing chorus.

The other mechs who had been loitering in the rec room were crowding around the vidscreen now, most of them humming or singing along with the human in the movie. A steady stream of 'bots came through the doors and joined them, until it seemed everymech who wasn't on duty was watching.

Optimus Prime's elite troops were watching a _musical_. Hot Rod struggled to wrap his processor around it.

“Here, kid.” A glowing cube of energon appeared in front of him, and Hot Rod jerked in surprise. He turned, his optics following the arm that offered the cube until they alit on Ironhide, who smiled encouragingly. “Ya look like ya need this.”

it _had_ been a while since Hot Rod had refuelled, so he took the cube gratefully and downed half of it in one go. It tasted strange, much stronger than any energon he'd had before, but it wasn't bad. He continued to sip at it as the movie progressed.

 

Hot Rod was sprawled across the laps of Ironhide, Powerglide, and Sideswipe. He was clinging to Sideswipe's arm, his pump pounding, optics wide as he watched the Nazis on the vidscreen searching for the von Trapps.

“Ironhide,” Sideswipe said evenly, “I don't think the high grade was a good idea.”

Ironhide just shrugged. “'Least the kid's makin' friends.”

Sideswipe couldn't deny that, so he shrugged in turn, tugging gently at the arm trapped in Hot Rod's grip.

The rec room doors swung open abruptly, and Optimus Prime entered the room . His optics swept around the assembled mechs, then landed on the vidscreen. “Autobots! What is the meaning of this?”

What happened next was _probably_ Hot Rod trying to stand to attention, but with his sensors clouded by high grade and his currently horizontal position working against him, what he managed to do was to fall off the couch and land across Jazz's hood, his legs hooked around Hound's shoulders and his arms still wrapped tightly around one of Sideswipe's, pulling Sideswipe forward so that his face was pressed against the back of Bluestreak's helm.

“Sideswipe made me do it!” Hot Rod shouted, startled.

The rest of the mechs in the room murmured apologies to Optimus, a few of them smothering snickers at Hot Rod's reaction to the Prime's entrance. Optimus himself looked slightly shocked. Shaking his head in bemusement, he asked, “What part is it at?”

“Almost over, Optimus,” Jazz replied, straining his neck cables to see over Hot Rod.

Optimus sighed. “I see.” The disappointment was evident in his tone. “I just got off shift... could you start it over?”

Bluestreak shrugged and sent a ping to the vidscreen. A nanoklik later, the movie had started again from the beginning.

“Thank you, Bluestreak,” Optimus said, settling himself in an empty seat between Grimlock and Kup. Everyone except Hot Rod relaxed into their seats and waited for the music to begin again. The younger mech, having been trying to untangle himself from his ungainly position since he fell that way, finally managed to stand up.

“But what _happens_?” he wailed.

“Down in front,” Sunstreaker growled.

“Watch the movie and find out,” Brawn advised. “And sit down, you're in the way.”

Hot Rod's protest that he had _just watched_ the movie was drowned out by the sound of music.


End file.
